SEYMOUR  DURST 


ObHST 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Archive 
in  2013 


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WILLIE  WILSON, 

THE 

NEWSBOY, 


m 


Willie  Wilsoi^ 


THE 


ILLIE  WiL- 

son's  father 
died  when  he 


was  SIX  years 
old.  His 
mother  had  very  bad  health ; 
and  his  heart  was  often  sad 
as  he  saw  her  getting  worse 
every  day. 


6  WILLIE  WILSO^T, 


When  Willie  was  twelve 
years  old,  lie  had  to  think 
about  getting  his  living.  His 
mother  wished  to  keep  him  a 
little  longer  at  his  day  school, 
but  she  was  too  poor  for  that : 
still  she  hoped  that  he  would 
'be  able  to  go  to  an  evening 
school,  and  get  on  in  his  learn- 
ing. After  a  time,  it  was  set- 
tled that  he  should  sell  papers 
in  the  streets.  He  had  tried 
to  get  a  place  in  a  shop,  but 
everybody  said  he  was  small 
of  his  age,  and  not  strong 


THE  NETTSBOY. 


7 


enougli  for  their  work ;  so 
what  was  to  be  done  ? 

A  kind  gentleman  had  giv- 
en liim  fifty  cents  to  start  liim 
in  his  new  trade;  but  Ms 
poor  mother  hung  down  her 
head  in  ^rief.  for  she  thouo^ht 
it  was  not  work  suited  to  her 
poor  orphan  boy. 

"  I  wish  to  get  some  money 
for  you,  mother  "  said  Willie. 
"I  do  not  like  to  see  you  so 
ill ;  and  you  are  not  able  to^ 
sit  up  at  night  making  shirts,, 
t©  buy  food  for  us  both,  as 
you  used  to  do." 


8 


WILLIE  WILSO^T, 


"  But,  my  dear  child,  liow 
can  I  let  you  go  into  the' 
streets,"  replied  his  mother, 
"where  you  may  meet  with 
other  newsboys,  who  cheat, 
and  fight,  and  take  the  name 
of  God  in  vain?  I  believe 
many  of  these  lads  are  honest 
and  ciYilj  but  there  may  be 
some  who  are  not  so ;  and  I 
fear  that  if  you  went  every 
day  among  bad  boys,  you  too 
might  fall  into  evil  ways." 

"  No,  mother,"  said  AVillie, 
"I  will  not  speak  to  theiit; 
I  will  only  say  to  the  people, 


THE  I^ETTSBOT.  9 


as  tliey  pass  along  tlie  streets, 
^  Will  you  please  buy  a  pa- 
per ? '  and  when  all  are  sold, 
I  will  run  home  as  fast  as  I 
can." 

When  his  mother  saw  how 
he  longed  to  earn  something 
for  her,  she  gave  her  consent. 
She  then  talked  to  him  about 
the  pious  lessons  his  dear  fa- 
ther had  once  tauo;ht  him. 
She  told  him  that  all  of  us 
had  evil  hearts,  which  were 
more  ready  to  lead  us  into 
sin  than  into  what  is  right. 
"  We  must  pray  to  God,"  said 


10         TVTXLEE  WILSON, 


she,  "  that  lie  would,  by  His 
Holy  Spirit,  create  within  us  a 
new  and  clean  heart,  so  that 
we  may  do  his  blessed  will." 
She  also  spoke  about  the  love 
of  J esus  Chiist  in  dying  for  us 
on  the  cross,  and  that  our  sins 
could  only  be  forgiven  for  His 
sake.  She  told  him  how  his 
father  had  loved  the  Saviour, 
and  that  he  died  with  a  pray- 
er on  his  lips  that  he  might 
meet  them  both  in  heaven. 

The  widow  then  knelt 
down  with  her  poor  fatherless 
boy,  and  prayed  to  God  to 


THE  KEWSBOT.  11 


bless  Hm.  When  they  rose 
up  from  their  knees,  she  said, 
"I  will  trust  in  the  Lord, 
AVillie,  that  he  will  be  your 
Father  and  the  Guide  of  your 
youth." 

That  night  Willie  crept 
close  to  his  mother,  and  they 
both  wept  themselves  to  sleep. 

Willie  was  up  long  before 
the  dawn,  and  with  the  fifty 
cents  that  were  given  by 
the  gentleman,  he  sat  out  to 
the  place  where  the  papers 
were  sold. 

It  was  a  dull  day  in  the 


12         WILLIE  TVTLSOK, 

early  part  of  the  year  when 
lie  began  his  first  day's  work. 
The  wind  blew  the  sleet  and 
rain  into  his  face,  bringing 
tears  into  his  eyes,  while  his 
body  shook  with  cold.  He 
had  not  a  good  warm  dress 
like  many  boys,  and  his  shoes 
were  old  and  worn.  But  his 
heart  was  warm  with  love 
to  his  sick  mother,  and  he 
did  not  mind  what  he  passed 
through,  that  he  might  take 
home  some  money  to  get  her 
a  cup  of  tea  and  some  bread. 
Willie  was  soon  seen  at  the  • 


THE  NEWSBOY. 


13 


corner  of  a  street,  near  to 
where  some  coaches  stood. 
He  began  to  call  aloud  the 
titles  of  his  papers,  as  he 
heard  the  other  newsboys  do. 
"This  must  be  the  way  to 
sell,"  thought  Willie,  and  he 
walked  up  the  street  calling 
his  papers. 

At  first  it  seemed  strange 
to  him,  and  he  felt  ashamed ; 
but  in  a  little  while  this  feel- 
ing wore  off.  "To  every  one 
w^ho  passed  he  offered  a  pa- 
per, but  he  did  not  sell  them 
so  fi^eely  as  he  had  hoped  to 


14         WILLIE  WTLSOi^^", 

do.  One  man,  while  Willie 
was  calling,  told  liim  to  liold 
Ms  tono^ue,  and  not  make 
sucli  a  noise  in  tlie  streets. 

Willie  thouglit  to  himself, 
*'He  does  not  know  that  I 
am  selling  them  for  my  poor 
mother."  In  this  manner  the 
morning  passed. 

But  had  he  sold  all  his  pa- 
pers ?  No,  he  had  nearly  one- 
half  of  them  still  left.  He 
now  sat  down  on  a  step  to 
think  what  he  should  do. 
He  felt  very  hungry,  and  at 
last  thought  he  would  go 


THE  I^EWSBOY.  15 


home,  Loping  tliat  lie  should 
be  able  to  sell  the  rest  of  the 
papers  the  next  day.  He  did 
not  consider  that,  unless  he 
sold  them  that  day,  he  could 
not  sell  them  at  all,  as  the 
news  would  be  old,  and  peo- 
ple would  not  want  old  news- 
papers. 

Just  at  this  moment  two 
boys  who  Vv^ere  bigger  than 
Willie  came  up,  and  after 
talkino;  with  him  a  little 
while,  they  saw  that  he  was 
a  simple  little  fellow,  so  they 
said,  "  Do  you  want  to  make 


16  WILLIE  WILSOI^", 


a  sixpence?"  "That  I  do," 
was  Willie's  quick  reply. 
"If  you  meet  us  to-night 
down  the  lane  by  the  gar- 
dens" said  they,  "we  will 
get  you  to  do  a  job  for  us, 
and  we  will  pay  you  well." 
Willie  did  not  quite  under- 
stand them,  and  was  not  will- 
ing at  first,  but  at  length  he 
agreed  to  meet  them. 

When  Willie  went  home, 
he  told  his  mother  about  the 
boys,  and  that  he  was  going 
to  earn  sixpence  in  the  eve 
ning. 


THE  NEWSBOY.  iT 


"  I  cannot  consent  to  your 
going,"  said  she.  "  It  would 
not  "be  for  your  good.  I  an- 
afraid  that  the  boys  intend 
to  do  something  that  is  bad. 
What  can  they  want  you  to  do 
after  dark  for  sixpence  ?  Be- 
sides, they  are  strangers  to 

1  us.  You  will  stop  at  home, 
and  we  will  read  the  Bible, 
and  then  get  to  rest  soon,  for 
we  have  not  coals  to  last  for 

j  many  hours." 

I    AYillie  was  sure  that  his 
mother  knew  best,  and  he' 


18  WILLIE  Wn.SON, 


agreed  to  what  she  said  with- 
out a  word. 

jN"ext  day,  Willie  went  out 
io  buy  some  more  papers, 
though  he  could  not  get  so 
many  as  before,  for  he  had 
not  so  much  money  to  lay 
out. 

As  the  clock  struck  eight 
he  saw  a  great  crowd  of  peo- 
ple coming  down  the  street. 
Some  had  sticks,  and  others 
.made  a  great  noise. 

"  We  have  caught  the 
thieves,"  said  one  man ;  "  they 


THE  NEWSBOY. 


19 


have  at  last  got  into  our 
hands." 

Willie  was  rather  afraid, 
and  lie  ran  up  upon  a  door- 
step. There,  as  the  crowd 
passed,  he  was  high  enough 
to  see  that  they  were  leading 
along  two  boys.  What  was 
his  surprise  to  find  that  these 
were  the  very  boys  who  had 
offered  to  give  him  a  job  after 
dark  the  nii^ht  before,  and  to 
pay  him  sixpence  for  it. 

And  as  he  stood  on  that 
doorstep,  he  heard  some  of 
the  crowd  say  that  these  boys 


20         WILLIE  WILSOI^-j 


were  caught  robbing  an  old 
lady's  garden  down  a  lane 
over  night.  They  were  now 
being  taken  before  the  magis- 
trate, so  that  they  might  be 
sent  to  prison. 

Now  Willie  saw  that  his 
mother  had  done  wisely  in 
not  permitting  him  to  meet 
the  boys  after  dark.  He  at 
once  ran  home  to  tell  her 
what  he  had  seen,  and  to  join 
with  her  in  thanking  God  for 
saving  him  from  the  snare 
that  had  been  laid  for  hia 
feet. 


THE  NEWSBOY.  21 

While  tliey  were  talking 
about  tlie  matter,  the  gentle- 
man who  had  given  Willie 
tlie  fifty  cents  came  into 
the  room.  By  some  means 
he  had  heard  about  Willie's 
kind  conduct  to  his  mothei^, 
and  how  willing  he  was  to 
work;  and  then,  too,  he  also 
learned  about  the  wicked 
boys,  and  how  the  poor  or- 
phan had  been  kept  from 
evil.  With  all  this  he  was 
very  pleased. 

It  was  so,  that  just  at  that 
time  he  wanted  an  honest, 


22         WILLIE  WILSON, 

willing  boy  to  assist  in  his 
warehouse,  and  lie  had  called 
to  make  the  offer  for  Willie 
to  have  the  place.  This  was 
a  happy  turn  in  the  history 
of  the  poor  lad.  His  mother, 
we  may  be  sure,  gladly  agreed 
that  he  should  accept  the  of 
fer;  and  in  a  few  days  he 
began  his  new  duties. 

If  we  had  time  we  would 
tell  you  of  the  joy  there  was 
in  the  widow's  room,  when 
Willie  took  home  his  first 
week's  wages ;  but  as  we  have 
not,  we  will  only  say,  May 


THE  NEWSBOY.  23 


God  bless  Willie  Wilson,  and 
may  he  be  long  spared  to  be 
a  comfort  to  liis  pious  mother, 
and  repay  the  kindness  of  his 
worthy  master. 


The  Right  Ttje:n^i]S'g. 


Y  name 
is  Job 
Joyce.  I 
live  at 
the  white 
cottage  in  the  valley.  If  you 
have  passed  that  way,  I  am 
sure  you  have  stopped  to  look 
at  my  cottage,  for  it  has  two 


26  TAKE  THE 


wliite  rose-trees  climbino: 
round  tlie  door,  and  three  bee- 
hives in  the  garden.  I  have 
been  a  sad  rover  in  my  time ; 
and  as  I  have  seen  not  a  little 
of  the  world,  I  ought  to  be 
able  to  tell  you  something 
worth  hearing.  "  Days  should 
speak,  and  years  should  teach 
wisdom."  If  I  can  say  a  few 
words  to  do  you  good,  you 
are  welcome  to  my  advice. 

"When  I  was  young,  I  was 
a  very  wilfal  sort  of  boy.  To 
many  a  kind  word  of  counsel 
I  have  answered,  that  "  I  was 


EIGHT  TUENma.  27 

old  enougli  to  judge  for  my- 
self."   You  need  not  wonder 
then,  that  I  often  got  myself 
into  trouble. 

"Job,"  said  my  father  to 
me  one  afternoon  in  the  win- 
ter, "  I  want  you  to  take  these 
two  empty  sacks  to  miller 
Brown's."  Now,  the  miller 
lived  in  the  next  village, 
about  two  miles  away.  "Be 
sure  you  take  the  right  turn- 
ing. Job;  and  as  it  will  be 
quite  dark  before  you  can  get 
back,  you  had  better  take  the 
lantern  with  you. 


28  TAKE  THE 


"OVIi-epHed,  "lean  find 
my  way  back  in  tlie  dark 
with  my  eyes  shut ;  there  is 
no  fear  of  my  taking  the 
wrong  turning." 

It  was  very  foolish  of  me 
to  answer  in  this  manner,  as 
our  family  had  not  long  lived 
in  that  part  of  the  country, 
and  I  was  therefore  rather  a 
stranger  to  the  places  around. 

On   my  way  home,  the 
night  set  in  dark :  there  was  ^ 
neither  moon  nor  star  to  be 
seen.    After  first  walking  in 
one  way,  and  then  in  another, 


RIGHT  TUENmG. 


29 


I  was  quite  brouglit  to  a  stand 
Whilst  tliinking  what  1 
should  do,  I  heard  some  foot- 
steps. They  were  those  of  a 
man  who  was  going  home 
from  work ;  but  I  could  not 
tell  whether  he  were  a  bad 
man  or  not.  However,  with  a 
good  deal  of  fear  I  called  out 
to  know  if  I  were  in  the  right 
way  for  my  father's  house. 
"  Why,  my  lad,"  he  said,  "  you 
are  quite  out  of  the  way ;  you 
have  taken  the  wrong  turn- 
ing. 

As  the  man  was  going  the 


30  TAKE  THE 


same  way  as  myself,  I  was 
glad  to  have  him  for  a  guide ; 
and  by  his  friendly  help  I  got 
safely  home,  though  in  rather 
a  more  humble  temper  of 
mind  than  that  in  which  I 
set  out.  I  wish  this  had  been 
the  only  time  in  my  life  when 
I  did  not  take  the  right  tui^n- 
ing. 

Shortly  after  this,  I  went 
to  work  at  the  Manor  Fo^rm. 
It  was  agreed  that  I  should 
live  in  the  house,  and  sleep 
in  the  same  room,  over  the 
stable,  along  with  a  fellow- 


EIGHT  TUE:N^rN-G.  31 

servant,  the  carter.  Before  I 
went  to  my  place,  my  pious 
motlier  said  to  me,  "Job,  if 
you  would  liave  the  blessing 
of  God  rest  upon  you,  do  not 
forget  to  pray  to  Him  every 
nio-ht  and  mornino:."  The 
first  night  I  retired  to  rest, 
the  young  carter  was  soon  in 
bed,  but  I  sat  down  on  an  old 
chair  in  the  room.  "Why 
don't  you  get  into  bed.  Job  ?" 
said  the  carter.  Ah,  why  did 
I  not  ?  The  fact  was  I  was 
ashamed  to  pray,  and  yet 
afraid  to  lie  down  to  sleep 


32 


TAKE  THE 


without  prayer.  The  fear 
that  the  young  carter  would 
laugh  at  me  made  me  a  coward. 
I  wished  that  I  had  slept  in 
another  room,  or  that  my  fel- 
low-servant would  fall  asleep. 
There  was  a  struggle  in  my 
heart.  My  duty  clearly  was 
to  kneel  down  —  to  make  a 
decided  stand  for  what  is 
right  —  to  obey  my  mother, 
and  to  seek  my  mother's  God 
and  Saviour.  But  I  gave 
way.  I  got  into  bed  without 
prayer,  and  in  a  short  time  I 
was  fast  asleep.    It  was  a 


EIGHT  TUEI^LN-G.  83 

toning  point  in  my  life,  and 
I  failed  to  take  tlie  right  turn- 
ing. 

Well  would  it  have  been 
for  me  if  I  had  stood  firm  to 
duty,  for  I  was  soon  thrown 
into  the  midst  of  snares  and 
trials.  You  may  be  sure  of 
this,  that  if  you  give  up  pray- 
er, you  will  get  on  to  slippeiy 
places,  and  be  in  the  highway 
of  sin.    So  I  found  it. 

My  pious  father  and  moth 
er  were  soon  laid  in  the 
grave,  and  I  quickly  forgot 
all  their  wise   advice  and 


34 


TAKE  THE 


warnings.  Their  Bible  was 
sold  for  a  few  pence.  The 
house  of  God  was  given  up ; 
and  I  got  among  those  who 
told  me  that  "  I  might  live  as 
I  liked,  and  get  to  heaven  at 
last."  There  are,  alas,  many 
in  this  world  who  are  ready- 
to  help  on  the  young  to  ruin. 

After  a  time  I  got  tired  of 
farming,  and  enlisted  as  a  sol 
dier  to  a  sergeant  who  came 
into  our  villao^e  with  ribbons 
on  his  cap,  and  a  medal  on 
his  breast ;  but  not  liking  the 
duties  of  military  life,  I  ran 


EIGHT  TUENma  35 

away,  and  getting  to  tlie  sea- 
shore, I  engaged  myself  as  a 
sailor.  I  thought  it  a'fine  thing 
to  visit  many  lands,  and  see 
the  world.  A  sailor's  life 
may  be  all  very  well  in  fine 
weather,  but  storms  will 
come,  and  the  smoothest  sea 
will  be  lashed  by  the  winds 
into  fury.  Certainly  our  ship 
met  with  storms  enough,  and 
in  one  of  them  she  was  wreck- 
ed on  a  rock.  Of  the  whole 
crew  three  only  were  saved. 

That  was  a  dreadful  nif^ht 
when  I  found  myself  on  the 


36  TAKE  THE 


top  of  a  rock  in  tlie  midst  of 
the  wide  ocean.  The  thunder 
roared,  the  lightening  flashed 
across  the  sky,  and  the  waves 
rose  like  mountains :  you  may 
suppose  that  I  was  filled  with 
terror.  Though  I  had  been 
ashamed  to  pray  before  the 
carter  in  the  little  room  over 
the  stable,  I  was  not  ashamed 
to  call  upon  God  before  my 
two  ship-mates  on  the  top  of 
that  rock.  I  cast  myself  on 
my  knees,  and  prayed  to  God 
to  save  me,  body  and  soul, 
for  Jesus  Christ's  sake.  Well, 


RIGHT  TTJENESTG.  37 


tlie  dreary  night  passed  away . 
in  tlie  morning  the  storm  be- 
gan to  lull,  and  to  our  joy  a 
ship  hove  in  sight.  We  made 
signal  to  it,  which  was  seen, 
and  a  boat  was  sent  to  take 
us  on  board.  I  returned,  in 
due  time,  to  my  own  land,  a 
mser  man  than  I  left  it. 

It  was  some  time  after  I 
had  given  up  a  sailor's  life, 
that  God,  by  His  Holy  Spirit, 
brought  me  to  see  that  I  was 
in  the  broad  way  that  leads 
to  death.  I  felt  that  I  was  a 
sinner ;  but  then  I  was  taught 


38  TAKE  THE 

that  Jesus  Clirist  was  a  Sav- 
iour, able  and  willing  to  save 
the  chief  of  sinners.  I  be- 
lieved in  Him  with  all  my 
heart,  and  thi'ough  His  grace 
was  led  to  repent  of  sin,  and 
to  live,  as  I  hope,  a  life  devo- 
ted to  His  service. 

As  I  now  sit  in  my  old  arm 
chair  in  the  front  of  my  cot- 
tage, I  think  of  days  that  are 
past.  While  I  cherish  a  good 
hope  of  heaven  through  the 
merits  of  my  Saviour,  I  wish 
to  do  a  little  good  to  others. 
And  so  I  say  to  you,  my  young 


EIGHT  TURNrN"G.  39 


friends,  —  Be  sure  tliat  you 
take  the  right  turning.  There 
are  laany  false  guides  ready 
erLough  to  lead  you  in  tlie 
wrong  way ;  but  if  you  liave 
been  trained,  as  I  was,  in  the 
ways  of  piety,  stand  fast  by 
your  early  instructions,  and 
they  will  stand  fast  by  you. 


There  is  a  path  that  leads  to  God ; 

All  others  go  astray  ; 
Narrow,  but  pleasant  is  the  road, 

And  Christians  love  the  way. 


40  TAKE  THE 


It  leads  straight  througli  tliis  world 
of  sin, 

And  dangers  must  be  passed : 
But  those  who  humbly  walk  therein 
Will  go  to  heaven  at  last. 


How  shall  a  feeble  pilgrim  dare 
This  narrow  path  to  tread  ? 

For  on  the  way  is  many  a  snare 
For  youthful  travellers  spread : 


While  the  broad  road,  where  thou- 
sands go. 

Lies  near  and  open  fair ; 
Aud  many  turn  asid-e,  I  know, 

To  walk  with  sinners  there. 


EIGHT  TUEKEKG.  41 


But  lest  my  feeble  steps  should 
slide, 

Or  wander  frgm  Thy  way, 
Lord,  condescend  to  be  my  guide, 
And  I  shall  never  stray. 

Then  I  may  go  without  alarm, 
And  trust  His  word  of  old, 
*'  The  lambs  He'll  gather  with  His 
arm, 

■  And  lead  them  to  the  fold." 

Thus  I  may  safely  venture  through, 

Beneath  my  Shepherd's  care. 
And  keep  the  gate  of  heaven  in 
view. 

Till  I  shall  enter  there. 


ALWAYS 
DO  RIGHT. 


FIGHT  ! 

a  fight r 

cried 
.Will 
Racket, 
tlie  wheelwriglit's  boy,  as  he 
threw  down  his  hammer,  and 
ran  up  the  green  lane. 


44      ALWAYS  DO  EIGHT. 


"Fi2:lit  him!  %lit  him!" 
shouted  Fred  Parker,  the  "ba- 
ker's apprentice ;  at  the  same 
time,  placing  his  tray  on  the 
ground,  he  rushed  to  join  a 
crowd  on  the  village  green. 

"What  is  it  all  about?" 
called  out  Ben  Frost,  the  saw- 
yer, as  he  stood  at  the  ale- 
house door,  and  the  next 
moment  pushed  his  way, 
with  eager  looks,  to  the  same 
spot. 

"  I  don't  wish  to  fight,"  said 
John  Smith,  a  meek,  pale- 
faced  boy,  in  black  dress,  and 


ALWAYS  BO  EIGHT.  45 

a  band  of  crape  arouud  Lis 
cap ;  wliile  before  liim  stood 
Ned  Brown,  with  Ms  jacket 
tlirown  off,  and  liis  sliirt 
sleeves  tucked  up  above  Lis 
elbows. 

"  Why  not  fight  him  V  cried 
some  of  the  men  and  boys : 
"he  struck  you,  and  you 
should  hit  him  again." 

"  But  my  mother  has  told 
me  that  I  must  not  fight," 
said  John ;  "  and  I  will  not 
disobey  her.  I  have  not  done 
any  harm,  and  I  don't  see 


46      ALWAYS  DO  EIGHT. 

wliy  Ned  should  wish  me  to 
fight." 

No  sooner  did  John  thus 
speak,  than  the  crowd  began 
to  mock  and  shout  aloud. 
"  He  is  a  big  coward,  that  he 
is.  He  is  afraid  to  fight  be- 
cause his  mother  says  he  must 
not and  Ned  Brown  stamp- 
ed with  his  foot,  and  looked 
fiercer  than  ever. 

Just  at  this  moment,  Mr. 
Morris,  the  schoolmaster,  was 
drawn  by  the  noise  to  the 
place;  and  quickly  making 
his  way  through  the  throng, 


ALWAYS  DO  EIGHT.  47 

he  stood  between  the  two 
boys,  and  began  to  inquire 
what  all  the  noise  was  about. 

He  soon  saw  how  matters 
stood,  and  turning  to  Ned 
Brown,  he  desired  him  to  go 
at  once  to  his  work  in  the 
mill,  while  he  gently  took 
John  Smith  aside  from  the 
noisy  crowd,  that  he  might 
ask  him  a  few  questions. 

"  Why  would  you  not  fight 
with  Ned  Brown  T  said  the 
schoolmaster. 

"  If  I  were  to  fight  him," 
replied  John  Smith,  "  perhaps 


48      ALWAYS  DO  EIGHT. 

I  should  hurt  liim,  and  I  do 
not  want  to  do  him  any 
harm." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Mr.  Mor- 
ris. 

"And  if  I  did  not  hurt 
him,"  added  John,  "I  fear 
that  he  would  hurt  me,  as  he 
is  a  stronger  boy  than  I  am." 

"  No  doubt  of  it,"  said  the 
schoolmaster. 

"I  do  not  think,  sir,  that 
fighting  is  the  right  or  best 
way  of  settling  a  quarrel." 

"  That  is  quite  correct,"  ad- 
ded Mr.   Morris.    "I  wish 


ALWAYS  DO  EIGHT.  49 

everybody  ttouglit  as  you  do ; 
the  world  would  be  all  the 
better  for  it. " 

"Then,  sir,  I  would  rather 
be  called  a  coward  than  do 
what  I  know  to  be  wrong." 

"Very  good  again,"  said 
the  schoolmaster,  as  he  laid 
his  hand  on  the  head  of  thf 
peace-loving  boy. 

"  And  more  than  that,  sir, 
to  fight  is  not  only  against 
what  my  mother  has  taughi 
me,  but  also  against  the  com- 
mands of  our  Saviour,  who 


50      ALWAYS  DO  EIGHT. 

has  told  us  to  love  one  an- 
other." 

Jolin  Smith  went  home 
with  a  light  and  happy  heart 
"^hat  day ;  and  was  not 
ashamed  to  tell  his  mother 
all  that  had  taken  place. 
When  she  heard  how  her  son 
had  acted,  she  thanked  God 
who  had  enabled  him  to  do 
rio^ht,  even  when  he  had  to 
bear  ^vith  scorn  and  mockery 
for  so  doing. 

For  some  days  it  was  the 
talk  of  the  rude  boys  of  the 
village  that  John  Smith  waa 


ALWAYS  DO  EIGHT.  51 

notliing  better  than  a  coward, 
because  he  bad  revised  to 
figbt  Ned  Brown  ;  yet  it  was 
not  long  before  tbey  bad  to 
change  their  ninds  on  the 
subject. 

One  afternoon,  as  John  was 
going  on  an  errand  for  his 
uncle,  he  came  to  the  old 
stone  bridge,  which  crosses 
the  river  near  to  Gaffer 
"Wood's,  when  he  heard  loud 
cries  of  distress.  On  lookino- 
along  the  bank  towards  the 
old  mill,  where  the  waters 
run  strongly,  he  saw  a  lad 


52      ALWAYS  DO  EIGBT. 

struggling  in  tlie  stream.  The 
unhappy  boy  had  tried  in 
vain  to  reach  the  shore,  and 
was  now  ready  to  sink. 

In  a  moment  John  cast  off 
his  coat  and  shoes,  and  plung- 
ed into  the  water,  for  he  was 
a  good  smmmer.  He  soon 
reached  the  drowning  lad, 
and  with  one  hand  clasped 
him  firmly  by  the  arm,  and 
with  the  other  struck  out  for 
the  shore.  With  much  skill 
and  courage  he  brought  the 
lad  to  land  ;  and  to  his  great 
joy  found  that  he  had  been 


ALWAYS  DO  EIGHT.  53 

tlie  means  of  saving  figbting 
Ned  Brown  from  an  early 
deatli. 

Ned  was  not  a  little  touch- 
ed at  the  conduct  of  John 
Smith,  and  grateful  for  being 
saved  fi'om  a  watery  grave. 
He  took  his  deliverer  with 
both  hands,  and  as  the  tears 
fell  down  his  face,  thanked 
him  over  and  over  again. 
Then  he  asked  to  be  forgiven 
for  having  so  often  spoken 
unkindly  to  him,  and  for  so 
wickedly  trying  to  provoke 
him  to  fight. 


54      ALWAYS  BO  EIGHT. 

"You  will  not  strike  me 
again  "  said  John  ;  "  will  you^ 

"No"  cried  the  penitent 
boy ;  "  and  I  will  take  care 
that  no  one  else  does ;  that  ] 
will" 

It  was  soon  reported 
through  the  village  that 
John  Smith  had,  at  the  risk 
of  his  own  life,  saved  Ned 
Brown  from  being  drowned. 
"Whatever  had  been  the  opin- 
ion before  among  the  young 
men  and  boys,  there  was  now 
no  doubt  in  their  minds  who 


ALWAYS  DO  EIGHT.  55 

lad  sliown  true  courage. 
They  all  agreed  that  John 
wsis  a  brave  boy ;  and  when 
he  parsed  the  cottages,  with 
Ned  by  his  side,  many  a  kind 
and  civil  word  was  spoken  to 
him  both  by  old  and  young. 
Even  the  wheelwright's  boy 
and  the  baker's  apprentice 
now  received  him  with  much 
respect,  and  thought  it  was 
quite  plain  that  a  lad  might 
be  truly  brave  at  heart,  even 
though  he  would  not  fight. 

"  Let  the  conduct  of  John 
Smith,"  said  ]Mr.  Morris,  just 


6^      ALWAYS  DO  EIGHT. 

before  tlie  village  school 
broke  up  one  day,  "  be  an  ex- 
ample to  you  all.  He  who 
dares  to  obey  Ms  parents,  and 
wtio  seeks  to  fear  God,  thougk 
it  draws  upon  Mm  an  ill  name, 
proves  that  he  has  a  truly 
brave  spirit.  While  he  who 
is  ashamed  to  walk  in  an  up- 
rio^ht  coui^se,  lest  those  who 
are  around  should  mock  him, 
is  without  true  courage.  If 
all  people  were  of  John 
Smith's  mind,  the  world 
would  be  much  happier  than 
it  is.    Mind  what  I  say,  my 


ALWAYS  DO  EIGHT.  57 


boys — and  I-  would  say  tlie 
same  to  girls  also ; — Always 
DO  EIGHT — in  all  things^  in 
all  ^lace^^  and  at  all  time^^ 


BOYS  AT  PLAY. 


ON  tlie  cheerful  village  green, 
Skirted  round  with  houses  small, 

All  the  boys  and  girls  are  seen, 
Playing  there  with  hoop  and  balL 

Now  they  frolic  hand  in  hand, 
Making  many  a  merry  chain^; 

Then  they  form  a  warlike  band, 
Marching  o'er  the  level  plain. 

Now  ascends  the  worsted  ball, 

High  it  rises  in  the  air ; 
Or  against  the  cottage  wall. 

Up  and  down  it  bounces  there. 


BOYS  AT  PLAT.  59 


Then  tlie  hoop,-with  even  pace, 
Runs  before  tlie  merry  throngs ; 

Joy  is  seen'in  every  face, 
Joy  is  heard  in  cheerful  songs. 

Rich  array  and  mansions  proud, 
Gilded  toys,  and  costly  fare. 

Would  not  make  the  little  crowd 
Half  so  happy  as  they  are. 

Then  contented  with  my  state. 
Where  true  pleasure  may  be  seen, 

Let  me  envy  not  the  great 
On  a  cheerful  village  green. 


THE  END* 


I 


